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by Edgar Allan Poe THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I […]
by Davis Ripley Keller I was drinking with the Devil and the Devil got drunk Passed out cold so I put him in the trunk Drove downtown to the county jail Said “book this crook don’t set no bail” Police said, “what did he do?” I said, “what did he […]
by Ron Whitehead in the middle of a dark and stormy october 31st night i convinced a young lady to drive me to the graveyard i had selected the tombstone a week earlier during a cloudy windy late afternoon walk reverend roscoe rankin january 19, 1809 – october 7, 1849 […]
‘ By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. (Macbeth, 4.1)’ by Saira Viola Selwyn was a simple man. He liked simple things: the colour blue, beer, beef steaks and chopping people up. He was short with a squat rot complexion pitted with scars and bad memories. Selwyn had sand-coloured hair and […]
by Washington Irving In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of Saint […]
by Marc D. Goldfinger artwork copyright© 2015 joeyfeldman, www.joeyfeldman.com There is no sense of time here. Have I been in the Troll’s basement for thirty days? Or has it been thirty years? The other junkies who dropped in here today tell me that it is raining outside. They say […]
by nikki vixen In 1983 I was 18 years old living on Avenue B between 11th and 12th Streets in NYC’s East Village. A block of 5 story tenements with lines of junkies waiting to cop in front of my door. My place was on the third floor. Apartments […]
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